Echoes
by Quirky Writer
Summary: I'm not in too deep, if you're concerned about that. I'm still in fairly shallow water....as cheesy as that is. I'm just - curious... HUMOROUS ONE-SHOT


**Disclaimer:** I do not own Lost – although I wish I'd thought of it – nor do I own the two characters used in this story. I also don't own William Shakespeare or Nora Roberts, or the English Thesaurus. (:D)

**PG: for some language and thematic elements.**

_**Echoes**_

by Homicidal Maniac

There he is.

I've been looking for him all day. Well, not actually _looking_. More like hovering from place to place, and casually gazing around at my surroundings. All you girls know what I mean – looking disinterested, playing hard-to-get, even when he isn't there. Then, once he shows up, you spring back to life, and you're witty, but unattainable. I've been playing that game my whole life, so I've got it down to an art.

He's here now, though, and that's the important thing…. and he walks right past me. Shit.

A few wild, distorted thoughts flash through my mind as I wonder what I should do. Stay here? Get up and take a totally innocent walk on the beach? Tackle him from behind and have my way with him?

Damn it. I _hate_ it when this happens – and it happens way too freaking often, too! No, not love – absolutely not. I'm talking about this weird sort of sensation you get when you see that person. Your heart starts beating so hard you think they'll hear it, and you've got to go hide somewhere and start breathing again. I know what you're thinking – puppy love. A goddam schoolgirl crush. That's not it. It's something a little stronger than a crush.

I'm not sure if there's a suitable word to describe it. Then again, I'm not exactly a giant, walking Thesaurus. Or Shakespeare. Or Nora Roberts, for that matter. Ha. If I were Nora Robert's I'd probably be marrying him by now. The couples in those romance novels make relationships, even falling in love, seem so damn easy. God, I feel like such a moron, just sitting here, rambling….

The worst thing about this stupid emotion is just that it's so strong. It doesn't leave you until you find out whether or not it's reciprocated. And until you find out, it just gnaws at you, every hour of every day, until you just want to scream, throw yourself at him, and let it all out.

That's it. I'm acting like a complete idiot. I'm not a schoolgirl. I'm a strong, independent woman, damn it!

So I rise from where I sit, brush the sand off my ass, and begin walking at a fairly slow rate towards him. He's a good fifty yards away from me, walking steadily up the beach. I'd run after him, but there are people all around me. I'd hate for them to stare. So, I walk, carelessly, taking my time, enjoying the warm sunshine on my shoulders and face.

I'm not in too deep, if you're concerned about that. I'm still in fairly shallow water ….. as cheesy as that is. I'm just – curious. I've never really known anyone like him before. He's…. he's.… genuine? Yes, genuine. And sincere. Insert all the groans from ladies at the prospect of a sincere guy. I know, I know. I'm sorry I even brought up the idea…. You'd have to know him like I do to understand. You'd have to be near him.

We're out of camp now. I try to quicken my pace a little bit, but not too much. I don't want him to hear me. Then again, would he really appreciate me sneaking up on him? Probably not.

I call out his name. He doesn't hear me over the sounds of the surf. I glance behind me. All the other people seem to be about three inches tall. Good enough for me.

I call his name a second time and hurry towards him. This time he hears, and turns. When he sees me, he looks surprised, and smiles faintly. I skid to a stop, in front of him. There's only a foot between us. We say hello, politely, almost timidly. God, he's handsome. Sure, he's not exactly Brad Pitt, and he won't make women drool or faint or anything like that, but he's still handsome. It's the eyes. You feel like you've known him for your whole life once you look in his eyes. He's got a warmth about him.

All of a sudden my heart does that stupid bang-bang-bang-bang up against my ribs – loud, really loud. Instinctively, I pluck at my shirt, as if I can somehow muffle the sound.

The dreaded small-talk begins.

"How are you?" I ask.

"Fine," He answers. "You?"

"Fine," I echo him, smiling.

Cue the awkward silence. We both stand there. I drop my eyes, and look at his shoes, then at mine, then back to his again. My tongue is dry, and it's sticking to my front teeth, like peanut butter has glued it there.

"Is there anything wrong?" He prompts. I look back up at his face. His expression says he is troubled, if a little curious, by my silence. I try to remain cool and aloof.

"Um…"

… _Why am I so afraid to talk to him?_

He begins to frown slightly at me, his brow furrowing.

"What's wrong?"

_What's wrong_…. A torrent of fresh thoughts surface in my mind, swarming like angry bees, demanding to be said and understood –

What's wrong is that I can't get you out of my mind. My days revolve around trying to come up with new ways to see you, to tell you what's on my mind. I want to touch you, and I want you to touch me, but that's not going to happen, because you're always just a foot away from me, and we're both too chicken to make that first move, even though we want it. You're always so lonely, it seems, and I want you to have faith in me, like I have in you, and I don't want you to be alone anymore. I want to show you how capable I am – that I'm not some dumb girl with a crush who can't do anything for herself.

"….Shannon?"

I stop thinking. I speak.

"Nothing…. I just wanted to say hi."

He kept looking at me, curiously. I smiled at him, and added hastily,

"Seriously. There's nothing wrong. Thanks for asking…. I'll see you later, Sayid."

**Author's Note:** So could you tell from a mile away it was a Sayid/Shannon fic? I didn't want it to be too obvious, so I purposely kept it vague so it'd be a surprise ending. I'm actually not a MAJOR supporter of Sayid/Shannon, but I knew it would be a little too cheesy if I put this in Claire's perspective of Charlie, or Kate's perspective of Jack or Sawyer, etc. I think the story ended up being a little cheesy anyway, but I threw it together in an hour. :)

Review please. I like criticism, but only if it's intelligent… not the "THIS SUCKED SS, U SHULD KNOT BEE RIT-ING!" crap. Also, if you could rate this from a scale of 1 to 5 (5 being the highest) then that'd be greeeeeat.

- H.M.


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